Forgiving Life Itself

It's hard to let go of the story, to lay down the weapon of rebellion: that life has been cruel to me. To let that idea drift away feels like parting with a toxic, codependent lover who brought false comfort.  Sometimes I think I would prefer to hold into the idea I've been wronged more than be set free into joy. How very fallen of me.

Can I let that worldview go and believe that God will take care of me—remember that He always has taken care of me? 

I feel I can, when my eyes are open to his daily care and his constant blessing. When I see clearly in these moments, how much easier it becomes to have faith, to trust, that He will (and does) care for me, even despite all temporal obstacles before me? 

Is this being born again? To be given new eyes and new ears to see and hear the truth?  That truth that God is always there, that even when I thought life was wronging me, He was there righting it and able to heal my heart and fill me with His love the entire time—that He is big enough to hold all of it?. 

I simply wouldn’t look.  I wouldn’t live.  I was blind.  But now I see.